The famous hymn, “It is Well With My Soul” was penned by Horatio Spafford. He lost his son, and shortly after that, a fire destroyed most of his real estate. Two years later, he sent his wife and daughters on a vacation overseas to give them a break, but a few days later he got word that there had been a crash and all four of his daughters had perished. What grief—Job-like grief—must have swarmed him. In 1873, as Spafford travelled on a ship overseas to reach his wife, he wrote the lyrics that later became the song, “It is Well With My Soul.”
I remember the first time my husband deployed, and my local church loved to play that song. Every week, I cried when I sang it. I had never been apart from him for so long, and as a newlywed, it was hard. As the lyrics rolled across my mouth, “It is well, with my soul, it is well, it is well, with my soul,” I whined. I grimaced and could hardly say the words.
Was it really well with me? It sure didn’t feel that way. The next Sunday would roll around and the music would begin and I would snarl inside. I could not stop the tears and one Sunday, I grabbed the hand of my dear friend, Paige, during that song. Her husband was home, but mine was not, but she understood without a word spoken, what I was dealing with. She understood, and she was there.
Now, as the news of the military plane crash in Afghanistan came to me, I think of the hundreds and thousands of women dealing with the tears and grief. My heart pours out for the spouses of those that fell. And for those whose husbands who were not harmed, the thought has run through our heads, “It could have been my husband. It could have been me.”
That day in the little church, without a spoken word, comfort was given to me by my friend. Did she say anything to me? No. She didn’t have to. Sometimes we can bring comfort to our friends, by simply being there.
Just hug them.
Just hold them.
Just tell them you understand.
Just tell them you know their pain.
Just listen to them.
When I lost my son, I knew it was hard for others to even know what to say to me. “I’m sorry,” is mostly spoken in times of death. And I understood why people said that; because in their hearts they didn’t want me to have to go through that pain. I didn’t either. But I rarely knew how to respond. Should I say, “It’s okay.” No, it was not okay that my son died. That was not okay with me. But what you can do is agree—I wish that had not happened. I wish that you didn’t have to walk through the fire right now.
As supporters to those who are hurting, our love and nearness speaks the loudest. It is truly so hard to know what to say and sometimes even to know what to pray.
What can you do for those going through loss? You can be there. Just be present. Just sit beside them and hold their hand. Sometimes you don’t even have to say a word. Sometimes your presence is enough.
To all the military friends who are grieving, we love you. We are here for you. Scattered all over the nation, and sprinkled all over the world, we are here. We are present. We understand the pain, the fears, and the grief, and we wish this had not happened.
In 2013, Kristene DiMarco, inspired by Horatio’s lyrics, wrote a song about depending on God—“It is Well.” It is well, not because what happened was good, but because of who God is, and in times like these, we must stand on the rock that is higher than us.
“To encounter the faithfulness of God is not always a comfortable thing because you have to be in a place where you actually need somebody to be faithful to you and that is usually uncomfortable… He (God) really encountered me when I needed him the most. And I needed rescue. I needed salvation. I needed faithfulness. And He came through for me, so now my faith, is faith; it’s not just hope.” – Kristene DiMarco
Good will come. For now, be present for each other, be present for your friends and let God’s love flow through you to them.
